


You Believe What You're Saying

by helens78



Series: Shameless [2]
Category: The Portrait Of A Lady (1996) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-18
Updated: 2009-08-18
Packaged: 2017-10-04 20:40:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christian's on a new assignment for Eclipse; he's going to be working as a dominant companion--more colloquially, "sex slave"--for a man named Viggo. Viggo's a different sort of owner than most--notably, he believes slaves are people, too. It's going to be a whole new ball game for Christian.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Believe What You're Saying

It's Sunday night, and Christian has a brand-new assignment. This neighborhood's not the wealthiest one in the city, but it's definitely not poor, either. What it really is is _old_\--all the buildings here were built nearly a hundred years ago, and the neighborhood has a definite sense of history to it. The streets are so narrow that Christian's car barely made it between the rows of parked vehicles; he's glad it was a company car with a company driver, that he doesn't have to park here.

The house he's headed for looks small--one story, nice porch, pretty close to its neighbors--but the stone stairs leading up to house level are in good repair, and the porch itself looks well taken care of. The exterior looks pretty good, too--new paint, or at least new in the last couple years, Christian would guess. He knocks on the door, and when that doesn't get a response, he rings the bell. Which isn't a bell so much as a buzzer, and it's loud enough Christian can hear it from out here. He winces; if it were up to him, he'd have waited until morning to get out here. Eclipse said otherwise, so it's almost midnight and here he is. He hopes the owner's not sleeping.

He doesn't buzz again right away, instead settling in for the wait. No hurry. He's got a large duffel bag over his shoulder, packed for seven months--one of dozens of things about this contract that's unusual. The small house, the unusual length of the contract, the fact that he's never met his new owner...

Then there's the fact that his new owner's submissive. That's different, too. Christian's had that kind of contract before, but just once. It was a good month, as these things go, and he'll take a dominant assignment over a submissive one any day of the week, but he's curious why this guy--name of Viggo--chose Christian sight-unseen over anybody else he might have picked.

He's about to buzz again when he hears footsteps, and a few seconds later, an older guy opens the door. He's a little shorter than Christian, medium build, brown hair with some grey to it that reaches down to his shoulders. He's got a beard growing in--maybe it's as grown in as it gets; Christian wouldn't be surprised. The guy's dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt, he's barefoot, and his clothes are paint-splattered. Contractor, maybe. Could be a slave or a servant Viggo's got living with him while he has some construction work done. Christian nods at him. "I'm Christian. I've got an appointment with Mr. Mortensen."

"Right." The guy sticks his hand out, and Christian shakes it. "Come on in."

Christian follows him inside and glances around the house. The interior's just as well-maintained as the exterior; the floors are hardwood; the walls are a paint-and-wainscotting combination that would look perfectly at home in a house by the waterfront. There are paintings hanging on the walls, abstract ones with the occasional addition of photographs or newspapers layered under paint and--on at least one occasion, _glitter_. Interesting.

The contractor leads Christian through the living room and into the kitchen, where all the appliances are new and gleaming and there are bar stools at a counter. No kitchen table; not enough room for that. "Take a seat," the contractor says. He digs a couple of mismatched coffee mugs out of a cabinet, and pours two cups of coffee out of a French press.

Two. _Back up._ The guy's clearly comfortable around the house; he's paint-spattered, but it's multiple colors, and the living room is covered in paintings; he's pouring two cups of coffee. Christian raises an eyebrow at him as he slides the duffel bag off his back. "Are you Viggo?"

He looks up at Christian, surprised, and nods. "Yeah, I'm--hell, sorry about that, didn't even think about it. I figured they'd give you a picture, at least." Christian takes one of the bar stools, and Viggo slides him a cup of coffee. He puts a tiny mismatched cream and sugar set up on the bar; Christian ignores both and takes a drink of the coffee. It's good--incredibly strong, but good. "So--yeah. I'm Viggo. Does that work for you?"

"I think it's more important to ask if this is going to work for _you_," Christian says. "I'm under contract; I go where I'm sent."

"Fuck that." Viggo shakes his head. "This isn't going to work for me if you don't have _some_ interest in being here." He blinks, suddenly, then narrows his eyes as he looks at Christian. "Wait a minute, they--maybe they didn't tell you that. Did they at least tell you I'm looking for a dominant companion?"

_Companion_, Christian thinks. _Not "slave". Okay._ "Yes. And that's fine; I'm much more dominant than submissive."

"Good. So talk to me about what you need in order to feel like you're getting something out of being here."

Christian drinks some more of that coffee while he tries to figure out how Viggo wants him to answer that. He wonders if it's an age thing--Viggo is clearly in his late forties, and while he's in good shape, Christian's seen a lot of submissives that put more care into their appearance than Viggo has--at least right now. Then again, Viggo's not trying to attract a dom so much as buy one, so maybe part of the appeal of being an owner is that he _doesn't_ have to work so hard to get a dom's attention.

All that thought isn't helping Christian come up with an answer, though, and he's almost halfway through his coffee. He looks Viggo over again. "You want to know the truth, I don't know how to answer that question. Being here is better for me than being in a contract where I'm expected to serve as somebody's submissive slave, so if you want to know that I'm getting something out of this, I'm getting that much."

Viggo winces. "It's not much."

"You'd be surprised."

"Are you all right with being here?"

Christian shakes his head at Viggo, trying not to laugh. It's not funny, not really. "You really care about that, don't you?"

Viggo's expression darkens. "I hate that it's even a question," Viggo says, and God, he sounds like he means it--like he's _angry_ about it. "But yeah. I really do care about that."

"All right." Christian sighs. "I've been a slave for five years, and you're not the first person I've run into who actually cares about whether I'm--" _Happy_ is the wrong word. "Comfortable," he says, instead. "So all I need from you is honesty. All the time. From the big things to the small ones. What we're doing here--I'm used to this. This is what I do. You don't have to make excuses for why you hired me; I have a job to do, and I'm good at it. Just be honest about your expectations and your needs; if I'm doing something wrong, if something isn't working, tell me up-front and we'll get it fixed."

"Sounds good to me." Viggo nods. "Should I start with what I'm after here?"

"It's as good a place as any."

"Okay." Viggo finishes off his coffee and pushes the cup away; he leans forward on the bar and laces his fingers together. "I focus better when I can give up control to someone for a few hours a few times a week. I've been in a shitty place for creative work lately, and meeting up with strangers on an erratic basis wasn't getting the job done. I'm hoping you'll be able to pull me out of the slump, because it's driving me up the fucking wall. What you do with me doesn't have to be sex, although you're really goddamned attractive, and I'd like it if you wanted to fuck me. I just need to go to a place where everything's out of my hands for a little while."

Apparently asking for honesty from this guy means getting a hell of a lot of it. Christian doesn't mind. Knowing where he stands with people is incredibly valuable, especially when working from the top. "All right," he says. "I can do that for you. When you say a few times a week--what are you thinking there? Once a day? Every other day? Do you want this on a schedule?"

"I'd like a schedule, yes. I'd say three times a week at first, and we can talk about doing more than that after the first few weeks. Other than those times, I don't need you to stay at the house--though it's your home for the next seven months, so you can stay here or go out, whatever you feel like doing. I'm not the kind of guy to keep tabs on people; as long as you're here when we're working together, the rest of your life is up to you." He looks around the kitchen. "Whatever I've got is yours, and I'll get you a credit card to use for things like food, house supplies, gas if you want to take the car somewhere, whatever. I'm not going to ask you to run errands for me, but you might have noticed that I don't live like a lot of owners do--there's just the one car, the house isn't that big, I'm not into having a lot of fancy shit around." He winces. "There isn't a media screen in your room, but if you need one--"

"I'll be fine," Christian says. "I've got a phone, so I can keep in touch with Eclipse. I don't need anything fancy. And I appreciate the freedom." For once, he doesn't have to say those words ironically. _You're here for seven months. You might as well start it off with the benefit of the doubt._ "Why don't you show me where I'll be staying?"

He's fully expecting to be thrown into an attic, a cupboard under some stairs, some corner of the basement; instead, Viggo takes him down the hall to a full bedroom, complete with little walk-in closet. He's had contracts where a converted closet itself was all the space he got; this feels like living at the fucking Ritz, for all that the bedroom isn't much bigger than the queen-sized bed in it.

"Bathroom's shared," Viggo says. He shows Christian the rest of the house, which doesn't take long. There's the bathroom, with a clawfoot tub, a separate stand-up shower, a toilet with an upper chamber and a pull-chain, and one tiny pedestal sink; the mirror's got a funky, interesting frame, made of what looks like some kind of tile mosaic, and the walls have nice bright light fixtures. Between the shower and the tub, there's a standalone warming rack for towels. There's a shelf next to the tub, and it's covered in half-melted candles. Pretty nice, shared or not.

Viggo's bedroom is bigger than Christian's by a considerable margin. "I ripped out the back family room for this," Viggo explains. It's got a king-sized bed with four posters--nice, convenient--and enough open floor space to do just about anything apart from an actual singletail scene. No mirrors; Christian was almost expecting a wall to be full of them. There's another closet, and a dresser, but it's clear he doesn't spend a lot of time in here--or maybe it would be better to say he doesn't spend a lot of time in here _alone_.

The basement--daylight; the house is up on a hill--is one big room, all open space, with thrift-store patched furniture along the walls and a lot of art supplies scattered everywhere. Viggo flicks on the light just long enough for Christian to see everything, then turns around and goes right back up the stairs. _Creative slump_, Christian thinks. He can believe it.

"I can't think of anything else right now," Viggo says. "If you're still okay with being here, we can maybe think about that schedule."

"I'm fine with being here," Christian confirms. "Tonight's a little late to do anything justice--to be honest, I'm sorry about that, because I'd like to see you in a scene, and I want to see it sooner than later."

"Tomorrow," Viggo says immediately. "We'll get started tomorrow."

"Day or evening?"

"Evening. I can be up in the morning if you want that, but I'd be better in the evening."

_I'd be better._ Christian files that away; maybe Viggo just means he'd be better off, but Christian doesn't think so. "When do you normally have dinner?"

"About six."

"Okay. Let's get started around eight, then."

"Eight's fine by me."

"What kind of schedule do you normally work with?" Christian holds up his coffee. "Coffee at midnight--I'm guessing you're not an early riser."

"Not if I can help it." Viggo grins. "I'm usually up around eleven, generally don't get to sleep until somewhere between two and four. I pull all-nighters on a pretty regular basis, and the art can be kinda noisy. I hope that's not gonna be too much of a problem--"

"Don't worry about it. Whatever you do, I've slept through worse."

"Thanks," Viggo murmurs. "Do you want to save conversations about actual play until tomorrow, or should we get into any of that now?"

Christian shakes his head. "Tomorrow's plenty soon enough. We'll get to it then. What kind of plans do you have tomorrow? Do you have a day job?"

"No, nothing like that. No plans for tomorrow, either. Maybe we could have lunch together and talk about it then?"

"Lunch would be fine," Christian says. He wonders if Viggo realizes he doesn't have to ask, if he understands that Christian's not likely to say no to much while they're together. He probably shouldn't remind Viggo about it; when he gets down to it, if this is the way Viggo's going to treat him, he doesn't really _want_ to remind Viggo that he's a slave. _So you're getting something out of this after all. Good for you._

It's more than that, though. It'll be good for both of them, if they're lucky.

_-end-_


End file.
